


One Hell of a Pilot

by JessJesstheBest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Baby is BB8 which is also perfect, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fandom Trumps Hate 2k19, Finn!Cas, It's literally just the first 36 minutes of TFA, M/M, Poe!Dean, Rated T for language, Rey!Charlie, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, With Minor Adjustments, YES I WHITEWASHED THEM AND I FEEL REAL HECKIN BAD ABOUT IT, this I feel is perfect and will take be taking no criticism about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: He leaned again to get close to the pilot. “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.”He took a deep breath, letting it sink in for just a moment that he said those words. That he was doing this. There was no going back.Or Cas is a reformed Stormtrooper, Dean is a rebel pilot, and this is the story of their escape.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	One Hell of a Pilot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueeyesandpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueeyesandpie/gifts).



> This is LITERALLY the first 36 minutes of _The Force Awakens_ with a few key strategic changes, so if you do not want to be spoiled for that movie.... go watch it and come back.
> 
> This work is a part of the [Fandom Trumps Hate](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/) auction. Check out some other cool works and support these charities this movement helps!

They slaughtered them all. CSTL-918 had watched them do it. He’d watched and he’d done nothing.

There was blood on his helmet. He looked through the red-tinted film over the eyepiece, throwing the world into crimson streaks. Or more streaked in crimson than it was already, the other Stormtroopers systematically taking down the assembled villagers.

Not just rebels. Villagers. Citizens. Innocents.

CSTL-918 wasn’t sure, really, what exactly ‘innocents’ meant. But he was learning. It wasn’t someone who deserved this. Did anyone deserve this? Had EZKL-108 deserved his death, the blood on CSTL-918’s helmet his last mark for an uncaring First Order? Would CSTL-918 deserve his?

He didn’t raise his blaster. He didn’t shoot. He didn’t defend. He just stood there, defecting in his inaction and condemning those assembled with the same inaction.

The world was on fire.

He tried to steady his breathing on the shuttle back to the main naval ship. He admittedly hadn’t worn the Stormtrooper armor for long but surely it should have been easier to breathe in these helmets. He shouldn’t have felt like his chest was constricting. He shouldn’t have felt so hot and dizzy. 

Nothing helped.

Everything felt too loud and too close. He could feel the grit of the sand from Jakku making its way through the gaps in his armor, grating against his hips and neck. The stomping of the other Stormtroopers, marching and shouting, set his brain ringing.

The resistance pilot was being pulled off the shuttle, his jaw set in defiance. As he came into the carrier, CSTL-918 watched as his green eyes widened, his jaw going slack as he craned his neck around, trying to take in the breadth of the carrier. Was he in shock? Was he planning an escape?

The pilot had taken action. He’d shot directly at Michael, no hesitation. No restraint.

CSTL-918 found it even harder to breath.

He shuffled as fast as he could to a quickly emptying shuttle, nodding half-heartedly at the soldiers making their way past, blasters clutched in their hands.

Once assured he was alone and out of sight, he took off the helmet, glad for the relative dimness of the shuttle. His breathing eased, but not enough. He was left holding his helmet in his two hands, gripping it tightly as he worked to slow his heart, take in the air. He couldn’t look down at his helmet. He couldn’t bear to see EZKL-108’s handprint left there.

This had been their first mission. They had come up in the First Order together. And now he was dead.

He’d died so easily. So carelessly. So unspectacularly. He was just there one moment and gone the next.

What did any of this mean? What was any of it even  _ for _ ?

“CSTL-918.”

CSTL-918 turned his head, his shoulders coming back into a soldier’s posture, even while his chest still heaved. Captain Naomi Phasma stood behind him, cape draped over the shoulder of her chrome suit and blaster held at rest in her hands.

“Submit your blaster for inspection,” she told him, her inflection at once flat and commanding.

CSTL-918 turned away from her, working to compose himself. “Yes, Captain.”

“And who gave you permission to take that helmet off?” she asked, a hint more assertion in her voice.

CSTL-918 paused, taking a moment to shove down his sudden rage and fear. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Report to my division at once.” Then she turned and left him alone again in the shuttle.

Her division. That meant reconditioning.

They wanted to make him compliant. Make him obedient.

Rage welled up again. Stronger than he’d ever experienced. More rage than he’d ever needed before.

He put the helmet back on. He would report to the Captain’s division. But that’s not all he would do.

  
  


The cell door whooshed open and CSTL-918 marched through, holding his blaster at rest. His posture was intentional if totally uncomfortable. He fought to keep his breathing slow as he approached the Stormtrooper appointed to guard the prisoner.

He glanced at the pilot long enough to ensure he wasn’t so badly damaged he couldn’t walk on his own. He knew what Michael did to people – to rebels. Luckily, the pilot looked a little worse for wear, a little rough around the edges, but still capable of escape under his own steam.

If CSTL-918 could get them that far, that is.

“Michael wants the prisoner,” he told the guard.

The guard nodded and released the pilot from his restraints. The trust and obedience was implicit. What reason did this Stormtrooper have not to believe him? Stormtroopers never lied. They didn’t have reason to. It wasn’t how they were programmed.

The pilot watched his restraints come loose, his eyes coming back to CSTL-918 with suspicious resignation. He knew something was off but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it.

CSTL-918 sent up a vague hope that the pilot would trust him by the end of this. He needed him on his side. 

The pilot swayed as he stood, just the slightest bit before he got his feet back under him. CSTL-918 reached out as if to steady him, only realizing when he was halfway there that that was not proper Stormtrooper behaviour. He turned the reach into a restraint, putting the pilot’s hands in handcuffs for the walk to see ‘Michael’.

The pilot didn’t fight. He didn’t make it easy for CSTL-918 and his jaw was so stiff it had to have hurt, but he allowed himself to be guided out of the cell, squinting into the brighter light of the corridor. CSTL-918 reluctantly put his blaster to the pilot’s side.

It wasn’t charged. There was no power that could have forced the blaster to go off at any time it was pointed at the man. But CSTL-918 still felt sick with it.

He only made it down a hallway and a half before he pulled the pilot into an abandoned alcove.

“Listen carefully: you do exactly as I say,” CSTL-918 leaned as close as he could, pitching his deep voice so low it could barely be picked up by the helmet’s modulator. “I can get you out of here.”

The shock and distrust in the pilot’s face did not inspire CSTL-918 with hope that they could get this done quickly. “What?”

CSTL-918 put down his blaster, freeing both his hands. He put one hand on the prisoner’s arm, half to reassure him and half to keep him there. With the other hand he pulled off his helmet.

The pilot’s eyes widened as he took in CSTL-918’s face. If he had to guess, this man had never seen a Stormtrooper remove his helmet before.

That was deliberate. Once a Stormtrooper removed their helmet, the illusion of uniform conquer was shattered. Removing his helmet, especially in the presence of a rebel, was nothing less than treason.

CSTL-918 instinctively turned to the hallway to see if anyone was coming. Not that it mattered: what he was about to do was far more treasonous than a helmet removal.

He leaned again to get close to the pilot. “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.”

He took a deep breath, letting it sink in for just a moment that he said those words. That he was doing this. There was no going back.

Then he moved on. “Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

The pilot looked down at his Stormtrooper armor and then back to his face. “You’re with the resistance?” he asked, clearly trying to make sense of what was happening.

They didn’t have time for that. CSTL-918’s voice was a little short when he spoke next. “What? No, I’m breaking you out.” He leaned forward again, gripping the pilot’s arm, speaking with more urgency. “Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

“I can fly anything,” the pilot told him, smugly, his face brightening despite the exhaustion and blood that stained it.

CSTL-918 could feel himself slump a bit in relief, a small smile taking his face.

The pilot’s mouth opened in a smile back before he was, again, taken by confusion. “Why?” he asked, firmly. “Why are you helping me?”

CSTL-918 took a breath and straightened his shoulders.

There were so many answers he could give, all of them true. 

_ ‘I admire your courage and action and you don’t deserve being imprisoned here.’ _

_ ‘I’ve seen what being a Stormtrooper is and I don’t want it. For the first time in my life, I have wants.’ _

_ ‘I’m afraid. Not only for my own life but for what I’ve been complicit in means for the galaxy.’ _

What he actually said was, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

The man in front of him, sandy-haired and blood-streaked, bruises forming along his stubbled jawline and under his eyes, surveyed him for a moment before coming to a conclusion. “You need a pilot.”

That was also true. “I need a pilot.”

The pilot smiled at him, nodding, seeming to believe him for the first time. Something released inside CSTL-918 and it was like he could hear the tension draining from him.

“We’re gonna do this,” the pilot promised, one of his eyebrows arching up, his eyes bright and mischievous.

CSTL-918 nodded back, nervous but also excited. “Yeah?”

The pilot thumped him on the chest of his armor, both hands still locked together. “Hell yeah. You get me to a TIE fighter, I’ll get you off this imperialist garbage cruiser.”

CSTL-918 smiled shakily with another firm nod, reaching up to replace his helmet on his head.

As the defecting Stormtrooper’s helmet went on, so did the pilot’s mask of exhausted defiance.

Together, they made their way out onto the carrier floor.

_ Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. _

The pilot walked ahead of him, CSTL-918 guiding him with a hand to his lower back. The other hand clutched a blaster, pointed vaguely in the pilot’s direction, but more over his left shoulder than anything else.

_ Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. _

“Hey buddy,” the pilot said out of the corner of his mouth. “You wanna chill out?”

CSTL-918 had been trying very hard to remain calm, so it was a little snappishly he replied. “I am chill.”

The pilot’s head tipped and CSTL-918 could imagine that if he could see his face, he’s have seen the man rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Except you’re walking real stiff and your hand is trembling like a goddamn lightspeed toggle.”

CSTL-918 worked to steady his hand and loosen his limbs, breathing through it.

He didn’t have time to see if he was successful. The bank of TIE fighters was coming up on their left.

He knew immediately when the pilot saw them. The muscles of his back went taut.

“Not yet,” he told him warningly, pressing his hand more firmly against the man’s back. They waited for a couple officers to pass, the pilot’s head following them as they went.

“Okay go.” CSTL-918 pushed once more with his hand before removing it completely. “This way.”

The pair of them broke into a trot, ducking between panels to get to the closest ship’s access door, the pilot vaulting over a short barrier in his haste.

It was a two-man special forces TIE fighter. The ship was constructed so you had to drop in to the TIE fighter from above. The rebel pilot did this with a practiced ease, not needing to look where he was dropping, despite him being unfamiliar with this particular ship.

It was more clumsy for CSTL-918 in his bulky Stormtrooper armor. Even without the limited sitelines from his helmet, the cumbersome shape of the armor made his movements awkward. Once seated, he immediately started removing pieces of the suit.

“I’ve always wanted to fly one of these things,” CSTL-918 heard the pilot say from his back. “Can you shoot?”

CSTL-918 removed his helmet and dropped it unceremoniously to the side. “Blasters, I can,” he answered. He never had. Not at anything but a target. But that wasn’t relevant.

“Okay, same principle,” the pilot told him, clicking and beeping telling CSTL-918 that he was prepping them for flight. “Use the toggle on the left to switch between missiles, cannons, and mag pulse – use the site on the right to aim, triggers to fire!”

CSTL-918 looked in front of him, trying to locate and identify everything the pilot had just told him very quickly. “This is very complicated.”

The pilot let out a sarcastic “Ha.” before doing something to make the ship move, very abruptly. CSTL-918 felt himself jerk against his seat.

He quickly took hold of the toggles to his left and right, preparing himself to shoot if needed.

The roar of the ION engines so close to where he was sitting was a new experience for CSTL-918, never having flown in a ship that was so tight and close-quartered. It took him a moment to adjust his senses to the noise and then his vision to focus out his side of the ship. That moment was long enough for their ship to snag on a tether and jerk them back from their flight. There were several cables connecting their ship to the port that neither of them had noticed.

“I can fix this!” The pilot promised. CSTL-918 couldn’t imagine how.

From CSTL-918’s backwards-facing vantage point, he could see Stormtroopers on the ground pulling their blasters and readying some of the heavier grade weapons, fully prepared to shoot them down.

CSTL-918 jostled the toggle on the left, hoping mag pulses were the same things as blasters, and aimed with the right, pulling the trigger before he could think about it too much.

There was an explosion below. CSTL-918 didn’t think he’d hit anyone but he did see some Stormtroopers get blown back. That was probably the best he could hope for.

He kept firing, giving the pilot enough time to get them out of their bind, aiming for the spaces between the soldiers and looking to cause more chaos than harm.

He shot the remaining TIE fighters, preventing anyone from following. He blasted fuel cases and banks containing spare weapons. The explosions were spectacular and CSTL-918 watched white-armor clad men knocked around by the g-waves.

He had to fight back. He knew that. He couldn’t stand complicit in the face of injustice.

But there could be another him down there. Someone who just has yet to realize the damage they’re causing. He had to hope for better for them and not kill them before they could save themselves.

He did shoot the command room, though. Those weren’t mindless soldiers up there. They knew what they were doing. They deserved the shattered glass for their trouble.

“I got it!” The pilot crowed, victorious, and with one mighty yank, they pulled free of their tether and shot out through the bay doors into the black of space, CSTL-918 forced forward into his safety harness from the speed.

“Damn, this thing really moves,” the pilot said, his voice strained as he too was forced back.

He turned them around, flying back and under the cruiser. CSTL-918 watched blasts of green light fly bast their ship.

“All right, we gotta take out as many cannons as we can or we're not gonna get very far!” the pilot told him, sounding almost excited by the thought.

“Okay,” CSTL-918 answered, not nearly as excited.

“I'm gonna get us in position, just stay sharp!”

Oh. Right. It was CSTL-918’s job to take out the cannons. So it was up to him whether they lived or died.

_ It was up to him _ . Nothing had ever been up to him before. Now  _ that _ thought was exciting.

The TIE Fighter arched back, diving in and out of the levels of the massive ship, flying down and back along the carrier’s belly. This pilot was really very excellent.

He turned them around, flying backwards so their guns and CSTL-918 were facing forward.

“Up ahead! Up ahead! You see it?” CSTL-918 darted his eyes, trying to focus on what the pilot talked about. Red guidelines had come up on his window, the ship adjusting to help their firepower. “I've got us dead centered. It's a clean shot.”

CSTL-918 saw it. “Okay, got it.” He took aim.

Fired.

The cannons went down, their ship flying harmlessly through the smoke and fire left behind.

CSTL-918 froze, shocked, then let out a victorious cry of his own. “Yes!

“Yeah!” the pilot whooped from behind him.

“Did you see that? I got it!”

“I saw it,” the pilot answered, a smile in his voice.

He flew them out from the bottom of the ship, getting them in eyeline of the blasters off the side. CSTL-918 moving backwards again, trying to get a firm lock to fire on those as well.

“Hey, what’s your name?” the pilot asked, bobbing and weaving through the green blasts still coming their way.

“CSTL-918,” he answered, still focused on aiming.

“CST… what?”

The pilot sounded angry and incredulous. CSTL-918 just shrugged. “That’s the only name they ever gave me.”

The pilot let out a huff. An angry sound. “Well I ain’t using it.”

CSTL-918 didn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected the pilot to call him anything.

“What was it? CSTL?”

“Yes.”

“How about Castiel. That uses all your letters.”

CSTL-918 – no, Castiel – felt himself smile. “Yes, all right.” He was smiling outright. “Castiel,” he tried, the name tripping off his tongue in a pleasant way.

“I’m gonna call you Cas, though,” the pilot continued. “‘Cause it’s faster. You good with that?”

Castiel was nodding, even though the pilot couldn’t see him. “Yes, Cas. I like that.”

“Awesome,” the pilot said, and Castiel could tell that he was grinning now, too. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel let out a quick laugh. “Good to meet you, Dean.”

“Good to meet you too, Cas.”

They made their way out of range of the blasters, Dean making wide passing sweeps to avoid debris and keep an unpredictable flight plan.

Castiel was sure they were home free, taking a moment to release the breath that had been making his chest tight for as long as they’d been getting shot at. It was then that four streaks of white were launched from the bottom of the ship, straight for them.

“The ventral cannons,” Castiel growled, admonishing himself.

“Shit,” Dean agreed.

Dean bucked and weaved, keeping the missiles from hitting them, but they were locked on to the TIE fighter.

“One's coming towards you,” Dean told him, urgently. “My right, your left. Do you see it?”

“Hold on,” Castiel said, trying to orient himself with the careening ship. A missile blipped on his screen. “I see it!”

He pulled the trigger. His blast connected, exploding the missile and sending the other ones veering around it.

Dean whooped. “Nice shot!”

Castiel took a moment to smile before he realized they were moving very quickly and firmly away from the huge carrier. But in the opposite direction of what he expected. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going back to Jakku.”

_ Fire. Death. Blood swiped across a dusty helmet. _

“No no no! We can't go back to Jakku!” Castiel took a deep breath, trying for reason over emotion. “We need to get out of this system.”

“No can do,” Dean told him, just the barest hint of apology in his tone. “I got to get to my droid before the First Order does.”

“What - a droid?!” The galaxy had so many droids. If Dean wanted a droid, Castiel could get him a droid.

“That's right. She's a BB unit! Black and chrome: one of a kind.”

“Surely you can  _ repaint _ a droid. This can’t be important enough to–”

“This one is, pal,” Dean said, his tone brokering no further argument.

Castiel huffed. He needed to approach this from another angle.

“We need to get as far away from the First Order as we can,” he tried, repeating his earlier line of reasoning. “If we go back to Jakku, we will  _ die _ , Dean.”

Dean said nothing for a moment, the only sound in the TIE fighter the ION engine.

Then, in a tone very much like someone giving up military intelligence, he said, “That droid's got a map that leads straight to Samuel Colt.”

Samuel Colt. Savior of the galaxy, Jedi Master, the man who’s been missing for almost as long as the First Order has been established.

Last hope of the rebel alliance.

Castiel groaned, dropping his head back. “Of  _ course _ it does.”

Before either of them could say anything else, one of the missiles finally made contact with their ship.

And now it didn’t matter if Castiel wanted to go back to Jakku or not, because that’s where their crashing ship was headed.

Castiel must have blacked out some point after ejection because he came to, gasping, strapped into his ejected seat, flat on his back in the sand of Jakku.

He freed himself from the restraints and got to his feet, panting as he surveyed the endless desert for some sign of the remains of their ship.

_ Their _ ship. Oh no, Dean.

He caught sight of a weak tower of smoke, two dunes in the distance. He took off toward it, the remains of his armor making his movements awkward and sluggish. He didn’t have time to take it off yet. He could only think about getting to Dean.

He came upon the first few pieces of wreckage before he even saw the ship. It was completely destroyed – no one in the ship at the time of impact would have survived. Castiel could only hope that Dean had ejected safely.

He rounded the wing, coughing a bit in the smoke as he called for his new friend. The windscreen on Dean’s side of the ship had a gaping hole in it. Castiel reached in, ready to pull out whatever was left of Dean if it remained.

All that came out was an old, brown leather jacket. The very same jacket Dean had been wearing when Castiel had rescued him.

_ That’s fine _ , Castiel told himself.  _ I took off my helmet and gloves when I got in the TIE fighter, it would make sense for Dean to take off his jacket. _

He couldn’t see anything else in the ship. The ground rumbled a bit, threatening to swallow the entire ship carcass whole, but it only sunk slightly in the sand, the metal and smoldering sand continuing to smoke, maintaining the beacon that had brought Castiel to the ship.

A beacon that would also probably draw Dean.

“I’ll just… wait here then,” he said to himself.

He tried to make himself comfortable, taking a seat a little ways away from the ship in the sand. He didn’t like the way the sand kept threatening to pull the ship under and the heat from the various fires were too hot for Castiel to stand too close. But sitting in the sand with hard and heavy sheets of plasteel hanging off of him was making waiting borderline unbearable.

He detached the armor from the body glove, using it instead to build a small shack to shelter him from the sun. Wearing all black in a dessert wasn’t great but with the shielding of the impromptu shade and the body glove’s built-in thermal regulation, he was as comfortable as he could be.

He couldn’t have said how long he waited, holding Dean’s jacket in his lap as a physical reminder of what he was waiting for. He was sure it was well over twice the time it took him to walk from where he’d landed to the ship. The fires had almost completely gone out. The pillar of smoke was barely a wisp of shifting air in the sunlight.

Castiel was contemplating starting another fire – making the beacon stronger to increase the odds of Dean finding him – when the landscape of Jakku finished what it had been threatening to do since Castiel arrived and swallowed the ship into itself.

“No,” Castiel softly, and then standing up, knocking the make-shift shelter away, louder, “No! No, I need– He needs to–”

Castiel fell to his knees, the hot sand stinging the skin of his knuckles as he punched into it, Dean’s jacket still clutched in his fist.

It was so quiet in the aftermath, Castiel’s breathing the only thing breaking the silence that Castiel could feel pressing against him, compounding his grief.

Until a rustling of sand caught his attention and he turned his head.

Dean Winchester was coming up over a dune.

Castiel squinted against the sun unwilling to believe he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. What he was desperate to see.

But the figure that was Dean squinted back and his face broke into a grin. “Cas!”

“Dean!” Castiel called back, scrambling to his feet so he could meet Dean in the hug he was running toward.

Castiel thought he must have been hugged at some point. Maybe as a very small child, at the very least. He must have been held to be fed, hadn’t he? At least at first?

But this was the first hug he could remember.

It was the only meaningful hug he’d ever had.

He held on tightly. For as long as Dean would let him.

Which was not nearly long enough as Dean pulled away, clapping Castiel on the shoulder with a rumbling laugh. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“And you as well,” Castiel said, smiling unsurely.

Dean grinned back at him, clapping him on the shoulder again before scanning him up and down.

“Well, shit, man! You had a body under that armor! Who’da thought?”

Castiel tilted his head, unsure what exactly Dean meant by that. Dean just shook his head. “Is that my jacket?”

Castiel looked down at his fist, still gripping tightly the brown leather. He’d forgotten he was holding it. He didn’t need a physical reminder of Dean when Dean himself was there physically.

He started to hand it back before Dean stopped him.

“No, hey, you should wear it. Make you look like less of a Stormtrooper.”

Castiel nodded, turning his head away, ashamed.

Dean stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. “Hey.” he said again, not continuing until Castiel looked him in the eye. “If you weren’t a Stormtrooper, I’d still be back there. You’re with the good guys now.”

Castiel quirked a small smile, letting Dean help him into the jacket. It was still hot but this way he had protection against the wind and sand. Dean was wearing a canvas shirt that may have been white at one point but through sweat or sand had turned a creamy tan. His pants and boots were also obviously worn but they were darker and looked more durable. Dean hunched into himself, crossing his arms to hide his exposed hands from the course air.

Castiel frowned. “Dean, it’s your jacket, are you sure–”

“Shut up,” Dean said, turning and squinting at the horizon. “Which way is the closest outpost, you think?”

Castiel sighed, burying his hands in the pockets of Dean’s leather jacket. “When the ship crashed, it skidded in this direction,” Castiel said, pointing between two dunes, opposite of where Dean had approached from. “If we’re to assume the ship crashed in the same direction it was headed before we were shot down, and I’m assuming you had our destination coordinates locked on the closest outpost, I’d say that way.”

Dean looked at him, frowning in an impressed sort of way. “Okay then,” he nodded. “No point putting it off. Let’s go.”

  
  


Castiel left his armor where it was, only feeling the slightest distress about adding more garbage to the already famously littered planet. He knew the landscape would have no trouble burying it, but the guilt was still there. All of these emotions were so new, Castiel didn’t know how to curb them yet.

Like the relief of Dean being alive. They’d been walking together now for almost as long as they’d been separated, the planet going dark around them, but the relief still clouded his mind like one of the captain’s reconditioning drugs. Only it made things sharper, not duller. It made sharper the fear of consequences for what Castiel had done and gratitude for Dean’s help and worry over what they were going to do next.

So many emotions. Castiel had to wonder how people lived like this.

“So what’s your deal?” Dean asked as if he was just picking up a conversation they’d already been having.

Castiel startled. “What?”

“Your deal,” Dean repeated. “Like, I’m grateful for the rescue, don’t get me wrong, but if this was really just about needing a pilot, I don’t think you’dve waited for me like you did.”

Curiously, Castiel felt his face heat up. Waiting for Dean at the wreckage hadn’t been out of the same sense of duty as the jailbreak had been. He just needed to make sure Dean was okay.

“It has recently come to my attention,” Castiel started, carefully. “That the First Order…” He took a breath. “the First Order doesn’t care about me.”

Dean snorted, making Castiel feel abruptly dismissed and embarrassed.

Dean must have noticed Castiel’s flinch because he put a hand on his arm, slowing them both down with the contact. “No, hey, sorry, that was mean.”

Castiel just looked at him. What an absurd thing to apologize for.

“I just… that’s kind of an understatement.” Dean looked like he kind of wanted to laugh again but not like he was making fun of Castiel. More like the situation itself was a cruel and cosmic joke. “Stormtroopers are the Waroots in a game of B’shingh.”

Castiel frowned. He didn’t know any games. He’d never played one.

Dean groaned, seeming to realize that and chastising himself. “Right, I mean the First Order throws you guys at the problem, hoping you’ll do something and save their asses the trouble.” Dean squeezed his shoulder, his hand becoming a familiar weight there. “They don’t care what happens to you. And, frankly, it’s talz shit.”

Castiel reeled a little bit. He’s never heard so many referential expressions in his life. Was this how the world was? Or was this just Dean?

Not that it mattered: he could understand Dean’s sentiment, at the very least.

“Thank you,” he said. 

This seemed to be the right thing because Dean smiled, clapping him on the shoulder again. 

“Thank  _ you _ , man. Don’t know where my ass would be without you.”

“You’d likely have been killed, your body put into the airlock and shaken violently until it turned to dust which would then be released into the vacuum.”

Dean looked at him incredulously.

Castiel shrugged. This was only the second time he’d ever done it. It still felt odd. “That’s what the First Order always does to enemies of the state. Once they get what they want out of them.”

At the mention of Dean’s lapse, his eyes darkened. “We have to get to my droid.”

Castiel nodded and they continued walking.

It was still quite a trek, despite their haste, and Dean got more conversational the more nervous he got. He told Castiel about the younger brother he’d left on his home planet – how he joined the rebellion to protect him. He told Castiel about working on cruisers with his dad as a kid and how the rebellion took his knowledge of mechanics and turned him into a pilot. Their best.

He talked about bonding with the BB8 unit who he called ‘Baby’ because he’d known her since she first activated. How she’d been his first companion in the alliance. How he needed to get her back because of what she carried but also because he loved her.

This concept was so foreign to Castiel: he’d never loved or been loved by any  _ bio _ -life forms, let alone mechanical ones. He couldn’t imagine being able to care for anything so freely.

“Then why paint her black and chrome?” Castiel asked. He’d made the mistake of calling her an ‘it’ before and Dean had soundly corrected him. “Those are the colors of the empire.”

Dean snorted. “What, I’m gonna paint her white and orange? That’s just  _ begging _ for her to get captured, Cas. I’m not gonna send my baby out into the world without some camouflage.”

Castiel frowned. That made almost too much sense.

They eventually had to stop talking when their mouths got too dry. They reached a very tall peak and could see the outpost far off in the distance, just as the sun started to rise again. They still had a lot of walking to do but just  _ seeing _ the center of activity – somewhere they could find water and maybe help and maybe even Baby – gave them all of the hope they needed to carry on.

Castiel ended up taking off the jacket and draping it over both of their heads, protecting them from the worst of the wind. He and Dean had lost layers of skin to the coarse air, he wanted to spare them both as much as he could.

They crested another dune and, finally, on the other side, they were met with life.

People, livestock, machinery, and  _ water _ . They paused on the peak of the dune to take it in, glanced at each other, and immediately made a break for it.

They scrambled through the market, begging for water, but none of the buyers or sellers had any time for them.

“What do we do?” Castiel asked, hoarsely. More hoarsely than usual.

Dean was collapsed against the support pole for one of the tents, seemingly at a loss, but the moo of an animal had him standing up straighter.

“Forgive me, Cas,” he said, already turning toward the noise. “This is gonna be gross.”

He led Cas over to a large basin of water where a large and snotty animal was gulping down the filthiest water Castiel had ever seen.

It was also the most beautiful thing he could imagine.

He immediately collapsed to his knees, thrusting his crusty hands in the water to cup a handful to his mouth.

It tasted absolutely revolting. The worst thing Castiel had ever drank. But the relief was instantaneous. He went back for seconds.

Dean was at his side, not even bothering with his hands. His head was dipped to drink exactly like the animal. Castiel didn’t know if he was quite  _ that _ desperate, yet.

Maybe it was because Castiel’s head wasn’t completely submerged that he heard the disturbance first. He was sitting back, pulling Dean’s jacket back on and wiping his face on his sleeve when he heard a fight break out over in the tents.

There was a girl with red hair being manhandled by a couple thugs.

He shook Dean’s leg where it was propped in front of him. He’d collapsed onto his back in the sand. Dean just grunted.

“Dean, someone needs help.”

Dean grunted again.

It was then Castiel realized Dean had been going and going without stop since crashing. Castiel had had at least taken a rest, sitting by the ship and waiting for Dean. But Dean hadn’t had that chance.

“Stay here,” he told him. “I’m going to help.”

Dean grunted again, and Cas got to his feet to run and help.

By the time he got there, however, the girl was delivering a staff to the head of the final thug, the other one already collapsed on the ground.

He pulled up short, watching. He’d seen many fights in his time but they didn’t seem to qualify in the same way this one did. Shooting blasters was much different from hand to hand. It was very impressive.

He watched her take a deep breath after the final thug hit the floor and then she scrambled to what Castiel had previously assumed was a bag of goods of some kind but she pulled the sack off to reveal a droid.

Castiel wasn’t an expert on droids. They hadn’t used very many on the ship, relying on Stormtroopers for all their labor – Stormtroopers required much less expensive upkeep. But this one was round. And it was black and chrome. Was it a First Order droid? What was the property of the First Order doing at this outpost on Jakku?

The red-headed girl stooped to talk to it. She seemed to actually understand the beeps it was making. She was explaining something when the unit turned and its lense fixed itself on Castiel.

It then started beeping very excitedly. Castiel couldn’t imagine why.

But it said something to the girl. And then the girl was coming very quickly toward him brandishing her staff.

Castiel acted on instinct: he ran.

He didn’t get very far, turning only a few corners, before the girl’s staff came up to clock him in the chin, sending him onto his back.

“Herhk,” Castiel said, the wind completely knocked out of him.

The girl stood over him, her staff pointed at his face. “What's your hurry, thief?”

“What…” Castiel started, still disoriented. “Thief?”

Castiel felt the droid roll up next to him and turned to see it just as a metal arm came out to shock him in the leg.

“Ow!” he flinched away. “Hey! What?!”

“The jacket,” the girl said. “This droid says you stole it.”

“There seems to be some misunderstanding,” Castiel started in what he hoped was a placating tone. He could definitely hear the sharpness in it, though. Due to all the pain in his face and leg. “Maybe we could talk–” The droid zapped him again. “Ow!  _ Stop it _ !”

“Where'd you get it?” The girl continued, unaffected by his pain. “It belongs to her master.”

“Master?” But before Castiel could get any further, Dean’s voice rang out behind him. “Baby!”

The droid whirred around and the lense on its – her – face widened. She trilled in what was clearly a gleeful way and rolled past Castiel – over his  _ fingers _ – to be reunited with Dean.

Castiel turned his neck and watched as droid and man were reunited, Dean crouching to rub affectionately at her chassis.

He turned back to the girl who was also watching, a little more confused. He gestured to them. “It’s his jacket. He gave it to me.”

“Oh,” the girl said, deflating a bit. She fell out of her stance, her legs coming together and her staff being tucked behind her back. She looked down at Cas, her face breaking easily into a smile. “Sorry, man!”

She held out her hand to help him up. Castiel, his head still spinning from the abrupt change in demeanor, accepted it.

“So you’re with the resistance?” She asked once they were face to face, her fair and face bright.

“No,” Castiel said automatically, then backtracked. “Well, he is. So, wait,” he paused to frown, still reworking things in his head. “I guess I am, too.” He tilted his head. “Huh.”

She nodded at him, still smiling but also a little sceptical.

Castiel sighed. “Dean?”

Dean looked up, clearly happy to be reunited with his droid, but winced seeing the expression on Castiel’s face. “Oh, yeah, sorry Cas.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Your droid zapped me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’ll get over it, you big baby.”

The girl looked between them, looking more perplexed by the second.

Dean stuck out his hand. “Dean Winchester,” he jerked his head at Castiel. “That’s Castiel.”

Castiel nodded, but he could feel his fingers twitch. It had felt like so long since Dean had called him by his full name. Even though Dean had  _ given _ him that name.

The girl nodded, taking Dean’s hand. “Charlie.” Her grin was back in full force. “I've never met a Resistance fighter before.”

Dean grinned back. “Well now you’ve met two!”

Charlie raised an eyebrow turning to Cas. “Him too?”

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Dean said, shrugging. He turned to look at Castiel and whatever Castiel’s facial expression was doing made Dean roll his eyes. “Shut up, Cas, yes you are.”

Castiel ducked his head, his own smile creasing his eyes.

Charlie cleared her throat. “BB-8 – or, uh Baby – says she's on a secret mission? She has to get back to your base.”

Dean took a step back, scanning her up and down.

He turned to Baby. “Whatd’ya think?”

The droid beeped and chirped in a complicated sequence Castiel couldn’t follow but Dean nodded along. Whatever the droid said made Charlie go “Hey!” And Dean turned to her, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“And you can speak to droids? Okay. That’s in the plus column.”

Dean then turned to Castiel and inclined his head.

Castiel had no idea what he wanted. He tilted his head back.

Dean groaned. “First impressions, Cas. Can we trust her?”

Castiel felt his own eyes widen. Dean wanted  _ his _ opinion on if they could trust her? Castiel the Stormtrooper? Castiel who he’d only just met?

He shook it off. “Well, uh, she hit me in the face with her staff.”

Baby beeped again, filling in the gaps of this story.

Dean nodded. “Noble enough to take down a thief and good with a staff.” He pointed at her. “I like you.”

Cas made an involuntary whining noise in his throat. “She hit me in the  _ face _ ,” he said again.

“Which is cool!” Dean said definitively. “Okay, you’re in.”

Charlie brightened, bouncing a little on her feet. She was dressed in the draped white fabric typical of any citizens of these drier planets with her forearms wrapped and a toolbelt at her waist, marking her a scavenger. Her upper arms and neck were tinged red from the sun but not as red as her hair that was pulled back into three buns at the back of her head. The buns bounced as she did. “I’m in? In what?”

“I’m gonna tell you what’s up,” Dean told her. He leaned in, pulling both Baby and Castiel to lean in with him. “We  _ are _ on a secret mission and now I’m bringing you in on the secret.” Dean pointed at Baby at his feet. “This droid is carrying a map that leads to Samuel Colt, and everyone is after it.”

Charlie jerked back, her eyes wide. “Samuel Colt?” She asked, her voice a hushed excitement. “I thought he was a myth.”

But before any of them could say anything else, Baby beeped in a warning even Castiel could understand.

He pulled on Dean’s shoulder. “Over there.”

Dean didn’t bother to look, he just grabbed one each of Charlie’s and Castiel’s arm and pulled them in the opposite direction.

He let go after a few steps, letting them run under their own steam, but he checked over his shoulders every few feet to make sure they were keeping up.

Blaster shots went up around them, making various tents explode.

Dean ducked, bringing his hands up to cover his head. “Who’s got eyes on Baby?”

“I do,” Castiel answered, keeping the droid to his left. “We’ll have to get out in the open so she can wheel more freely.”

“I got it!” Charlie said from behind him. “This way! We can lose them in the maze!”

Both Dean and Cas turned, Dean gently kicking at Baby so she could keep up as Charlie led them through the tents.

The Stormtroopers fell behind but Baby was having trouble navigating the various poles and piles of wares. Their progress was slow but they were at least covered.

Charlie was out in front, Dean taking up the rear. So when Castiel heard the distant sound of a TIE fighter, he didn’t know who to turn to.

“Charlie!” He called, simultaneously reaching back for Dean’s hand. “They’re going to blow this whole place up! We need–”

But Castiel was cut off by an explosion behind them, blowing all four of them forward, out from the tent maze, face down in the dirt.

Castiel heard Dean groaning next to him and he squeezed his hand. Dean squeezed back, a silent reassurance that they were both okay. 

Castiel didn’t want to let go of Dean’s hand but there was still the other half of their party to worry about. He pulled himself to his knees, squeezing Dean’s hand one more time before letting go in search of Charlie. He turned to find her scrambling across the sand toward him, he pulled up and touched her shoulder, much like Dean had done to him. “Are you okay?”

Charlie looked taken aback but nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Baby?”

The droid whirred rolling up behind Dean and nudging him. Dean pushed her off and rolled to his own feet, groaning.

“Everyone good?” he asked. He gave them little time to answer before grabbing Cas’s hand again. “Good, ‘Cause we gotta move!”

  
  


They were out from the tents which gave them more room to run outright and gave Baby enough room to build up some real speed.

This also made them incredibly vulnerable to blasts from the TIE fighters that were just circling back around.

“Charlie, where’re we going?” Dean called from his place again at the back.

Charlie pointed ahead of them to one of the passive pile of machinery Castiel had assumed was garbage. “That quadjumper!”

Dean whistled. Or he tried to but his air was limited as he ran. “That’s what I’m  _ talking _ about!”

But the ship was still very far away.

“What about  _ that _ ship?” Castiel asked, pointing to something that still looked like a pile of scraps but was at least closer.

“That one’s  _ garbage _ ,” Charlie called back.

And then the quadjumper they’d been running toward exploded.

Charlie pulled up short, her body reluctantly leaning toward the ship Castiel had pointed out. She whined. “The garbage’ll do.”

Luckily the ramp was already down so the four of them only had to run up its length, Baby rolling in behind them before they were once again under cover.

If only they could take off before the TIE fighters exploded this ship, too.

Charlie charged into the ship, pointing to a ladder just off the entrance. “Gunner position's down there,” she told him before running off toward the cockpit. Dean, of course, followed her.

Castiel groaned a little to himself. He was back on blaster duty, it seemed.

As he climbed down the ladder, he heard Dean ask “Y'ever fly this thing?”

“No! This ship hasn't been flown in years!”

Castiel went to groan again but then he was confronted with the gunner’s seat. “Whoa.”

It was a lot different than the gunner in the TIE fighter. And he didn’t think Dean had a handy how-to for him.

He moved the toggle and the entire seat moved with it, bucking him around in the shooter’s compartment. “Whoa!”

“You good down there, Cas?” Dean called from the cockpit.

“Fine!” Cas answered. “I’m just–”

“Okay!” Dean answered back and then he was quibbling with Charlie in the cockpit. Castiel almost called back to them himself to ask if  _ they _ were good but just then the ship lurched, rising into the air.

The takeoff wasn’t  _ completely _ smooth – Castiel doubted it could be if it was true this ship hadn’t flown in a while – but he assumed it would have been a lot worse if both of them hadn’t been in the cockpit.

But Charlie knew this ship and Dean was a very good pilot so they got them off the ground with only a few hiccups.

Too high off the ground. “Wait!” Castiel called but the engines were too loud. He huffed, glancing around until he found a headset. He put it on and tried again. “Wait!” he said, hearing his own voice over the speakers. “Stay low! It confuses their tracking.”

There was a deep huff over the radio and Dean said, “Good work, Cas.”

Castiel grinned. 

“Hang on, Baby!” Charlie called and they brought the ship into a dive, going low.

Just in time to get rocked by a blast.

“What are you doing back there? Are you ever gonna fire back?!” Dean called.

Castiel’s seat bucked, making his teeth rattle. “I’m working on it! Are the shields up?”

Castiel heard Dean swear before a soft click. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Yeah.” Cas huffed a kind of laugh.

He was rocked again by another blast. He was in the lowest part of the ship. He was the most vulnerable.

He tried firing on the TIE fighters but nothing was landing, everything was much too disorienting.

“We’re getting cover soon, Cas,” Charlie said over the comms, her voice strained.

“You’re absolutely insane!” Dean told her. “Are you–?”

“Shut up!” She said back. “And get ready.”

Castiel was apparently supposed to ready himself as well because, just then, the entire ship tilted drastically to the left.

“Whoa!”

“Sorry, Cas!” both Dean and Charlie called but they didn’t explain any more. Castiel guessed they had to concentrate on flying.

Castiel could barely tell what was going on, his window not very big and not showing very much, but from what he could gather, they were weaving between the wreckage of old Imperial ships that had crash-landed on Jakku.

If Dean and Charlie could navigate such a complicated aerial field, Castiel could figure out how to fire back at the TIE fighters.

He gripped the toggle and the joystick, moving them around, and trying to get his bearings. He took some experimental shots, just to get the feel and see what direction it would come out. 

He didn’t hit anything but he hadn’t expected to.

He was relying too much on the window. He needed to look at the readout in front of him. The readout didn’t have landscape and blurring lines. He had to trust it.

The ship banked hard around a crashed destroyer and they managed to lose two of the pursuing TIE fighters, one swerving the wrong way around the wreckage and the other crashing explosively into it, just leaving the one on their six.

The one almost  _ directly _ on their six. Castiel toggled around, struggling to aim until the readout showed Castiel was pointed directly at its center.

He fired.

His shot hit.

Dean whooped from the cockpit, Charlie coming in with a “Nice shot!”

Castiel laughed. “I’m getting pretty good at this.”

Dean let out a quick laugh of his own, his more of a bark than Castiel’s quiet rumble. “Knew you had it in you, buddy!”

The last TIE fighter caught up to them, coming around and shooting, everything missing. Castiel gave back as good as he got, clipping it, but ultimately missing.

The TIE fighter got in a lucky shot and hit their cannon’s control line. Alarms went off further inside the ship.

No matter how hard Castiel tugged on the toggle, he couldn’t make it respond to him.

“The cannon's stuck in forward position,” he told them, his voice grating and angry. “I can't move it. You have to lose them.”

There was a silence in the cockpit and then frantic switches started flipping.

“Insane! You’re insane.” Castiel heard Dean saying again.

“Are you in or not?” Charlie challenged.

And to Castiel’s surprise, Dean laughed.

“Oh, you’re  _ on _ . Cas, get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

But just then, the ship arced up and back and Castiel watched as the whole ship plunged into darkness.

They’d flown through the rear of a super star destroyer.

Dean laughed again. “We’re really doing this!”

“ _ Why _ are we doing this?!” Cas asked.

Dean just laughed again, and Charlie barked at him to focus.

Sparks flew as the edges of their ship grazed the interior of the jet propulsion tunnel. Charlie hissed each time it made contact and Dean was no longer laughing.

Castiel watched in horror as the TIE fighter lined up behind them, well within blaster distance, and Charlie and Dean had nowhere to go.

At least Castiel hadn’t  _ thought _ they did, but just as he saw the laser blast coming toward him, the ship lurched to the right and out of a giant hole in the Star Destroyer, back into the open air.

The TIE fighter didn’t crash into the ragged edges of the destroyer as Castiel hoped. This pilot seemed to be pretty good at flying as well.

And then their ship’s power got cut. And they were falling.

Castiel was sure something was wrong but then he was facing the TIE fighter. His  _ cannon _ was facing the TIE fighter and he didn’t have time to think: he just shot.

And the TIE fighter exploded.

Cheers went up from all three of them as they zoomed up and off Jakku, into the atmosphere and beyond.

As soon as the ship felt steady enough for Castiel to move, he unstrapped himself from his seat and threw himself up the ladder, excited to meet with Charlie and Dean.

Dean caught him as soon as he emerged, pulling him into a sweeping hug and crowing victoriously. “We fuckin  _ did it, _ man!”

Castiel laughed, hugging him back. 

Charlie smacked them both on their shoulders. “Good, work, guys!”

“Us, what about you?” Dean asked, pulling away from Castiel but keeping one arm around his shoulders. “That was some crazy flying.”

Castiel turned to Dean. “Didn’t you help?”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, but it was Charlie calling the shots.” He reached out to shove her shoulder back, smiling wickedly. “Where’d you learn to fly like that?”

Charlie shrugged, smiling brightly but her face going red. “I don’t know! I just kinda–”

“No one trained you?” Castiel asked, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead.

Charlie shook her head. “No. No one.”

“How’d you do that?”

“Well, I've flown some ships but I've never left the planet!” She turned and shoved Castiel. “And what about you? That shot was amazing!”

Castiel rolled with the shove. It didn’t hurt but Dean still tightened his grip on him which Castiel appreciated. “You set me up for it,” he said, unable to stop smiling.

“But you took it, dude! One shot and it was like–” she made an explosion sound with her mouth, her hands coming up to imitate the blast.

Castiel laughed again and she laughed back. A feeling of camaraderie passed between them. Something Castiel had only felt with one other person in his life: the very person who was keeping Castiel tucked into his side like he was something precious. It felt odd and overly lucky that he would find two such people at the same time.

But Castiel was fine with being lucky.

Baby rolled up behind them, whirring and nudging Dean in the leg. Dean finally had to let go of Castiel to squat and talk to her. “Hey, girl!”

She beeped and wiggled, her lens turning to Castiel in what he thought was an overly aggressive expression. If droids could even have expressions.

“No, no, Baby, he’s cool,” Dean told the droid. She beeped. “Yes,  _ really _ .” She started beeping again and he sighed, coming back to standing.

“Okay look. Cards on the table,” Dean said with spread hands. He glanced at Castiel apologetically and then turned to Charlie and Baby. “Cas used to be a Stormtrooper.”

Charlie immediately tensed, her arm grasping for her staff which was no longer on her back and Baby’s door dropped open, the shocker arm coming back out.

Castiel backed away, arms out to the droid. “No! No, bad droid.”

“He’s not anymore!” Dean said, over the noise. “He helped me escape. That makes him a good guy.”

“That makes him something,” Charlie said, eyes narrowed at Castiel. The flash of camaraderie was all but vanished. “How do you know he’s really good?”

“Because I talked to him!” Dean said. “More than I talked to you. I trust him.”

Castiel was sure he knew that, objectively. Logically. But hearing it made his blood pound super loudly in his ears. He looked at Dean in a way he was sure radiated gratitude.

Charlie looked between them, her expression going from suspicious to understanding. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Castiel didn’t. He tilted his head in question.

Charlie snorted, turning to Dean. “You can’t just go trusting every pretty face, Dean. He may act like a baby bird but he was raised with the First Order.”

“And Michael was raised with the resistance!” Dean said, throwing his hands up. His ears had gone pink when Charlie had called Castiel pretty. “None of it matters. It matters what you do and everything Cas has done since I’ve known him has been good. So he’s with me.” Dean came around to take Castiel’s hand in his. It felt right. Dean turned back to Charlie. “Question is, are you?”

Baby wasn’t being addressed but she still rolled to Dean’s side, whirring in affirmation. Dean reached down and patted her control panel without looking away from Charlie.

Charlie sighed, shrugging. “Fuck it. I’ve been waiting a long time to join up with the resistance. I’m not going to let the galaxy’s oddest couple get in the way of that.”

Castiel tilted his head again.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

Castiel turned to look at him. “Are we a couple?”

Charlie snorted but neither Dean nor Castiel were looking at her. Dean’s face went bright red. “I mean… maybe?”

Castiel frowned, searching Dean’s face. He saw mostly embarrassment but also trust. And the fondness Castiel had to start getting used to seeing. And maybe, at the back of his eyes, some hope.

He nodded. “Okay.” And he leaned up to kiss Dean on the mouth.

There was a pause, a moment of nothing happening and Castiel wondering if he was even doing this right, and then Dean kissed him back.

Castiel had never done this before but he’d heard stories. EZKL-108 had kissed a Stormtrooper of a different unit. He said it felt nice but he wasn’t sure what the purpose was.

This didn’t feel nice. This felt like Baby was zapping him but through his lips and into his chest. It felt like contact – like the first time Dean touched him affectionately – but closer and times a billion. It felt like purpose was a foreign concept: the only reason for doing this was  _ more more more _ .

Dean pulled away, a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. His eyes were wide, his face flushed, and his breathing ragged. “Whoa.”

Castiel agreed. He leaned forward to do it again but Dean held him back. “Maybe we should hold off for a bit. We still have to get back to the base, after all.”

This seemed overly practical and Cas frowned in annoyance. He heard Charlie snort from behind him.

“Okay. I believe you now.” She said.

Dean cleared his throat. “Good,” he said without looking at her. Then he leaned in and kissed Castiel again, very quickly, before pulling away. “Good!” He said again. “So let’s get this show on the road!” He clapped his hands together once before grinning around at all of them. A new team of the resistance. “I’ve got a really good feeling about this.”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't separate them, okay?!?! I couldn't do it! They need to be together!!!
> 
> I currently have no plans to continue with the rest of the movie (things are fundamentally different with Poe there....) but I'm also not ruling out continuing this, depending on how I feel about _The Rise of Skywalker_. If I do continue this, though, I'll make a separate installment and turn it into a series. So you don't have to worry about me updating this one - she's done.
> 
> Thanks to my betas, LanaSerra and sweetness47 on Discord ([come join us if you like](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)) And thanks to the Fandom Trumps Hate people for organizing this!
> 
> Sunny and I had a wild time cooking this up for a COMPLETELY separate challenge but, hey, it worked out for this one! So we'll roll with it. 
> 
> As usual I am [Saywhatjessie](saywhatjessie.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you can reblog it [here](https://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/post/189722899735/one-hell-of-a-pilot)!
> 
> Bonus: the Co-general of my heart drew me a Poe!Dean and I was so overwhelmed I curled up on the floor.  
> Here he is:  
> 
> 
> [Go reblog it right now immediately](https://stardustdeancas.tumblr.com/post/189988365870/pretty-sure-making-art-for-fics-i-adore-is-my-1)  
> [And also Finn!Cas oh my God I am unworthy](https://stardustdeancas.tumblr.com/post/190023002955/roses-are-red-violets-are-blue-why-does-everyone)  
> [ _CAHRLIE AS REY WHAT THE FUCK W HTE HE FUUUUUUUCK_](https://stardustdeancas.tumblr.com/post/190089753985/charlie-sighed-shrugging-fuck-it-ive-been)


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